Post by Regan Voorhees on Feb 20, 2022 14:20:43 GMT -5
From the desk of Regan Voorhees
To the participants of the Monday Night Clash 8-person tag main event,
First and foremost, I have a great deal of personal disdain for quite a few of you, said disdain not limited to my opponents for this contest. Naturally, my partners can expect the utmost professionalism from me, as I am not in the business of arbitrarily losing over the sake of hurt feelings. The aftermath is another matter, however. If any of you expected less, I cannot understate your stupidity.
Jill Park, you are, of course, exempt from the above statement, as I have no desire personally or professionally to terminate our partnership at this time. I trust that we can use our mutual goal of being Action Wrestling World Champion to assist one another in reaching the top of the proverbial mountain by standing atop a pile of bodies. Metaphorically.
To CJ Phoenix - while I must admit, the prospect of being United States Champion makes me salivate, particularly after my failed attempt to claim the championship from Der Metzger last year, it is not among my current goals. As this bout finds the two of us on the same side, you will not be the object of my ire. Congratulations.
As for Corey Black, satisfying as the prospect would be to knife you in the back, I shall refrain. Assuming you found yourself beaten and battered in the middle of the match and reached out to tag me, I confess my uncertainty as to whether I would reach back. Watching you get mauled by our four opponents would be delightful. But again, professionalism first, even when it makes me throw up in my mouth. Best case scenario, your charred skeleton makes the hot tag to Jill or I, then we clean house, win the match, and sip mimosas out of your skull. Oh look, we’re inviting you to ladies' night. How cool for you. Next you’ll be sitting at our lunch table and wearing pink on Wednesdays.
For our unesteemed opponents, I will attempt to distribute my ill intent as evenly as possible, though practicality dictates one of you absorb the brunt so that they can be the competitor we defeat. Still, please note that I loathe each of you.
Carter Shaw, to call you a thorn in Jill’s side would be an understatement. You’re more of a shrapnel shard in her guts. I feel a certain obligation to only assist her in your destruction, rather than taking on the task myself, as I have quite a lengthy to-do list already(along with it just striking me as flat out rude). But with all these exciting new tag moves we’re workshopping, if you were to sustain so much damage on Monday that you couldn’t make the contendership match, well, what a tragedy that would be. I would weep, truly. Suppose I should wear my tear-proof mascara.
The return of Johnny Bacchus means I’ll be on Twitter less, which is a minor personal victory. Dispatching him from Action Wrestling again until - oh, let’s say 2023 - would further cement my position as this company’s premiere ghostly pallored athlete with an insufferable disposition. Then again, I thrive on competition. Ideally he and Dionysus brawl over whether the Greek original is superior to the Roman derivative and the two of them tumble into an overflowing vat of wine and drown. What a wonderful way to go. I would love that for both of you.
Frankly, it’s too bad that the mythological Dionysus didn’t feature in more tales of his own misfortune. How I would thrill to flip through some Greek parable about him getting thrown of Olympus for being lame(as in uncool, not the Hephaestusian sense). But alas, I must make my own misfortunes for the Lord of the Vine. And so the Red Camellia blooms and its tendrils grow eager to entrap.
But you, Downfall. Don’t think I’ve forgotten. My vision board’s still up. Some might call it a serial killer board, but they don’t get me. Call my focus obsession, but I prefer to think of it as a clearly defined goal. Sooner or later, I’ll get it. Regan Voorhees versus Downfall, one-on-one one. No third wheels, no shenanigans. Me against you, gifted the opportunity to avenge my greatest loss. Clear a glaring bit of red from my ledger. To prove to me, myself and everyone else that I can beat you. Until then, every encounter between the two of us, every split second I share with you in the ring, it’s all another petal yanked from the flower of Wrestler of the Year 2021. I could never stand to see you wilt, Downfall. I’ll tear you apart first.
Sincerely
And with the utmost disdain,
(Not you, Jill)
Regan Voorhees
